I was only eight or nine the first time I saw her.
We were visiting the beach in the late afternoon of a particularly hot day - the sort where even breathing feels like an effort. There was no sea breeze, but Dad decided that sweating at home was no good, and that the sun was low enough for us not to need sunscreen, so the beach seemed like a good escape.
Of course everyone else thought the same thing, so we ended up at one of the smaller beaches that is mostly rock and reef rather than sand. As a kid I did not care, I went exploring, and found a tucked away little overhang, with a deep blue gap in the reef beneath it.
And there she was. Just lounging on a rock. She saw me at once. I remember she tipped her head, as if trying to work me out, and then smiled, held a finger to her lips, and dived into the water, vanishing into the reef.
No one believed me of course. Kids always make up all sorts of stories.
The next time I saw her I was twenty-two. I'd just spent three years in a jungle, being shot at by people who did not want me there. And shooting them in turn. I was lucky, after a fashion. No bullet or shrapnel holes in me. But there were all sorts of scars that didn't show, and the doctors at the time did not understand.
I wanted to recall the innocent times, so I went down to that same beach in mid winter. It was a calm day, and I picked my way over the reef to that little overhang. To my surprise she was there. Unchanged. This time she looked at me for longer. Shook her head, let out a little sob - the first sound I heard her make - and dived again into the blue water.
That few seconds saved me. It gave me the hope to carry on, and eventually to heal.
That was twenty years ago. And now I am very literally not the man I once was. I got lucky on the investments I made with my Army pay, and I'm effectively retired at 42. Five years ago I had my final surgeries, and two years ago I took up free diving. Last year, I discovered monofins. And the mermaids. Not real ones, but fun and exciting all the same.
Today I have come back here. I can see her, and this time she's smiling, and beckoning to me. I'll finish this, and seal up this case. I'm probably not coming back. Goodbye land. Hello sea.